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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29610543">Back With A Vengeance</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/darlingdisastrous/pseuds/darlingdisastrous'>darlingdisastrous</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>To Be Determined - Anthology [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Flatliners (1990)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Age Difference, Angst, F/M, Ghosts, Haunting, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Older Man/Younger Woman, Stabbing, Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 16:35:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,504</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29610543</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/darlingdisastrous/pseuds/darlingdisastrous</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Nelson Wright/Reader, Nelson Wright/You</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>To Be Determined - Anthology [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2175507</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Back With A Vengeance</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="">
  <p>The nights were the hardest on Nelson. In the day, it was easy to pretend nothing was wrong, It was easy to write off each incident as a nightmare. But, when Billy Mahoney started fighting back, it became ... impossible to deny.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Every injury sustained only solidified the truth, no matter how impossible it might seem--Nelson was being haunted. Hunted by a ghost from his past--from a time he fought hard to forget.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m worried about you, Nel.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You sat across from him in the crowded cafe. A pair of small, black sunglasses perched on your nose, doing little to protect you from the morning’s harsh rays. You looked every bit the pretentious English major his friends liked to make fun of--from the black beret on your head, to the copy of Shakespearean poetry you rested your cup on. If his friends saw you, their torment would never end. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But, Nelson found it comforting. You weren’t jaded by science like he was. You didn’t stare at cadavers all day long and call it classwork. You still believed in the improbable because you wanted to, things like souls and ghosts. Compared to the people in the Medical College, you were a breath of fresh air ... especially when it came to all this.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Please.” You lean across the table, laying your hand over his. “Please, talk to me. You know you can tell me anything.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Nelson remained tight-lipped.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You sigh, eyes barely visible over the rim of your glasses. “Is there anything I can do to help?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>What could you do? He doubted you’d fare any better against his very violent ghost. Every time he looked in the mirror, Nelson was reminded of the little boy’s cruel intentions. He didn’t want to subject you to that.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>On the other hand, Billy was never active around people. More specifically, never around you. Ever since he flatlined, you hadn’t left his side for more than a few hours, to go to class or to sleep. When you weren’t near him, you called. Joe joked you were being clingy but you weren’t. Some part of you knew what he was going through and that he needed constant contact with the living.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>When Nelson was with you, he could almost forget his troubles and feel normal for an hour or two.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Nelson swallowed around the lump in his throat. He turned his hand over and squeezed yours. “I ... I don’t want to be alone.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>To be honest, he expected you to laugh. That’s what any of the others would do if he told them. <em>Laugh</em>. And why shouldn’t they? The mighty Nelson Wright, afraid of a dead boy.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But ... you didn’t laugh.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You smiled and slotted your fingers through his, rubbing your thumb across his battered knuckles.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Okay.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You’d only been over to his apartment once before, right after he flatlined. That was a nice night. Why couldn’t he have been tormented with visions of that?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Hell, maybe he’d get some tonight. That would certainly keep Billy Mahoney away unless he was as much of a pervert as he was a psycho.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You toed your shoes off at the door and discarded your bag. The sun was setting, turning the sky a vivid orange. Fall leaves fluttered past his window. It was November, so they were no longer a rainbow of colors, but a dull, dead brown.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Nelson stood awkwardly off to the side, feeling like a stranger in his own home. You walked the length of his living room, hands tucked in your back pockets as you surveyed the space. He’d never been more nervous to have someone over. He was only semi-lucid when you’d first came over if he was honest, so he hadn’t been anxious then. Now, however...</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You stopped in front of his television, bending at the waist to inspect it. (While he, not so subtly, inspected you.)</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Got any videos?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“They’re, uh, over there in the closet.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You stood and went in the direction he pointed. There were only a handful of videos inside. Nelson wasn’t big on movies, or TV. He hadn’t had the time to sit and watch since the term began, making it more of an expensive decoration rather than entertainment.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You rummaged through his selection before selecting a couple of old black-and-white horror movies.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You set up on the couch, sending Nelson to gather blankets while you worked the VCR. When everything was set, and snacks had been grabbed, you snuggled against him and the two of you fell into a comfortable silence. The first movie passed uneventfully, as did the second. Inwardly, Nelson would’ve liked to put some moves on you, but he found just sitting there with you as distracting as sex would’ve been. That, and you fell asleep on him halfway through the third movie.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Nelson sat there with you on him for a long time. You were so peaceful when you slept ... unburdened by the sins of your past like he was. He envied you. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He didn’t mind being your pillow, but he knew for a fact that the couch was the worst possible place to sleep for both of you.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hey.” Nelson gently nudged you. “Let’s go to bed.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Sleepily, you slurred, “But the movie—”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Ended a long time ago.” He rubbed your arms. helping you sit up. “C’mon. I’m too tired to carry you.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You peeled yourself off of the couch and leaned on him for support. The two of you staggered into the bedroom and collapsed on the bed without taking off any clothes, and falling asleep.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Nelson awoke, stiff with terror. Something was wrong.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Someone was standing over him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p><em>Please</em>, he thought. <em>Please, not here. Not now.</em></p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Nelson worked up the courage to open his eye a crack. Sure enough, there stood Billy Mahoney. He wore the same malicious smile that he always wore, his eyes so dark they seemed black in the low light.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Billy lifted his hand and Nelson flinched, expecting a blow that ... never came. Instead, Billy brought a finger to his lips, “Shhhhhhh.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He shook his head, “I don’t understand?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Billy’s image flickered out of existence, then re-appeared on the opposite side of the bed. Where you slept.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You were peacefully unaware of what was happening, of the horrible little boy leering at you. Nelson couldn’t breathe.<em> Not you. No, God, not you</em>.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>From within his red hoodie, Billy withdrew a knife. He shot Nelson a conspirator’s wink and drew his arm up by his ear, poised to strike.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No, stop it.” Nelson reached out, blocking your body with his arms. “It’s me you want, leave her alone.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Billy’s smirk broadened. The knife glinted in the moonlight, the serrated edge curved upwards slightly like a sickle. He drove the knife down, aiming for your heart.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No—<em>Y/N</em>!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Invisible hands grabbed him, pulling him away from your body. He screamed as the knife punctured your breast, your eyes flying open.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Nelson!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He shot upright with a gasp. The room was dark. Sweat poured down his forehead, a sob lodged in his throat. You wrapped your arm around his shoulders, pulling him close.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hey, it’s okay,” you whispered. “You’re alright, Nel, you’re safe.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Your words ran on a loop in his mind. You’re alright. You’re safe. You’re alright. You’re safe.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Nelson threw himself into your arms and breathed in your scent. He wouldn’t cry, not if he could help it. He held you like it was the last time, relishing in your heat and beating heart. Billy Mahoney couldn’t hurt you now. Not when you were here in his arms.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It’s okay.” You hugged him back, just as fierce. “You’re okay. Nothing’s gonna hurt you.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The two of you stayed like that for a long time. It could’ve been hours, or a matter of minutes. You didn’t let go of him, not once; not until he was ready. After a while, Nelson reluctantly unwound himself from your grasp and rested against the headboard. You cradled him in your lap, combing your fingers through his hair.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“He almost hurt you,” Nelson murmured. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m okay.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“But you almost weren’t.” He clenched his jaw tightly. The image of Billy driving the knife into your chest was forever burned into his eyelids. “He could’ve killed you, Y/N. You’ve seen what he’s done to my face ... He almost ... He almost ...”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You stroke his cheek with your knuckles, smoothing his frown lines. “Can you tell me who’s been hurting you?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>No. He couldn’t.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Even if you believed in the improbable, you wouldn’t believe this. If he told you who it was, if he so much as mentioned Billy Mahoney’s name, he knew he’d have to explain everything. Nelson couldn’t do that. Call him selfish, but he didn’t want you to think of him any differently than you did now. He didn’t want to see the look on your face when you realized he was a monster.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>So, he said, “I don’t know, but it doesn’t matter. You’re safe. That’s all I care about.”</p>
</div>
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